


Dreamboat

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz and His Humans
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gabe is the President of Uruguay, and Pete is Pete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamboat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



Pete doesn't remember a ton about the trip to Chile in 2008. It was cold, Tom Conrad took a lot of pictures of Pete's feet, he found out Ashlee was pregnant, they didn't manage to play a show in Antarctica and their chance at the world record was lost forever.

If someone prods him, he can vaguely recall the day they shook hands and took pictures with some representatives from other South American countries who were around for some kind of summit about kelp or poor people or volcanoes or something. If he digs up the pictures, he immediately recognizes the tall Senator from Uruguay, with the rad shoes and the smile.

But that's it, really. It was a long time ago.

**

Now they're taking Save Rock & Roll to South America, and everything is intense and sparkly and he misses his house and his bed and his dog, like, a lot. Bronx. He misses Bronx. Also Taco Bell.

"If you mention Taco Bell one more time," Patrick says evenly, "I will kill you."

Pete curls up with his head in Andy's lap. "I really miss disgusting food."

"We can find you disgusting, authentic food here. I promise."

"Disgusting, authentic vegan food," Andy says, petting Pete's face.

"No. I want meat."

"I know you want to giggle." Patrick taps away on his laptop. "Just go ahead and giggle."

Pete does want to giggle. And bite Andy on the stomach, and then Andy smacks him, so that kills a few minutes.

"It looks like Uruguay specializes in meat-based cuisine," Patrick says when they're done. "So you're in luck."

"Cool. Which city is in Uruguay? Where are we playing? I need to get it right."

"Montevideo."

"Montevideo. Montevideo. Mon-tayyyy vid-ayyyy-oh. Ay-oh, ay-oh." He takes a breath. "Got it."

"The President's coming to our show, you know." Patrick types some more. "It's kind of a big deal."

"The President of Uruguay." Pete blinks. "El Presidente. What's he like?"

"Uh. Well." Patrick frowns. "The Internet says they call him Presidente... oh, wow, uh, let's translate that as President Hottie."

Pete looks at him. "What does it actually translate as?"

"President I Want To Fuck?"

"Marcus!" Pete yells. "This wasn't included in the info packet!"

**

El Presidente Quiero Coger, which is what Pete can piece together from Google on his phone when Patrick refuses to let him see the laptop, shows up at the venue an hour early for a personal meet and greet.

"I will personally meet him and greet him," Pete says. "He's hot. And he looks nice." He shoves his phone in Andy's face. "Right? He looks cool. He looks like somebody I could hang with."

"He's the President of Uruguay, Pete." Andy takes the phone and squints at it. "Why do you have a tab open with 'South American Slang for Sex'?"

Pete shrugs. "I was bored."

"Rayarse la pintura," Andy reads aloud.

"That's something about paint." Joe frowns. "You want to paint with this guy?"

"It's slang! Scratch the paint. It means, like." Pete rolls his hips. "Grinding."

"You can't grind on the President of Uruguay," Patrick says firmly. "You cannot."

"I'm not actually going to do anything. I was just bored and looking stuff up." Pete takes his phone back and shoves it in his pocket. "Scout's honor. I will behave."

**

Pete really, really tries to behave.

El Presidente Quiere Coger, El Presidente Quiere Rayarse La Pintura, El Presidente de Uruguay Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, who is _younger than Pete_ and really tall and really cute and who wants to talk to them about the punk and hardcore albums he bought when he did a semester in the US in college--

He is _great_ , and Pete immediately starts to think of him as President Dreamboat.

President Dreamboat wears a pale blue linen suit to their concert, with a _pocket square_ , but he's staring at their outfits like he's starving for them. "Is this current fashion?" he asks, reaching out like he wants to touch Pete's Game of Thrones homage leather half-dress. "I love it."

"It's not current fashion," Patrick says. "It's just Pete."

"It's creative." The President smiles at Pete and then actually _does_ touch him, on the chest, his fingertips lingering on Pete's t-shirt. "Suck My Richard. Very clever."

President Dreamboat shaping his mouth around "suck my" anything is right on the verge of too much for Pete to handle. "Thanks," he manages to say.

"We've met before, you know," the President says, looking into Pete's eyes. "You and I."

"We have?"

"Well." The President's gaze flicks to the other guys. "All of us. In Chile? It was a very long time ago. I was a Senator then." He smiles, broad and ridiculously pretty. "You were still Fall Out Boy!"

"I remember," Pete says. "I totally remember. I loved your shoes."

The President looks into his eyes again, and Pete's stomach ties itself in knots. "I love your shoes. The ones you're wearing now."

"I can get you a pair."

"Grab him, Marcus," Andy hisses. "He's going to start taking his clothes off in a minute."

Andy is the actual worst person in the world. But he's not totally wrong.

**

After the show, an unsmiling man in a dark suit comes backstage. "The President would like to see Mr. Wentz."

"He doesn't travel alone," Marcus says. Marcus already sounds exhausted and they haven't even done anything yet. Well. They played the show. But Pete behaved, there's no reason for Marcus to be tired _yet_.

"Of course." The man nods. "The President is waiting in his limo, if you and Mr. Wentz would follow me?"

Pete's phone lights up with a text from Patrick before they've gone ten steps. "Do not scratch the paint with the President," it says. "I mean it."

Patrick is a hopeless killjoy. Pete ignores the message with dignity and follows Marcus and the suit to a black limo with the sea of Uruguay painted on the hood and, when the door opens, leather seat covers embossed with cobras.

"Is that a symbol of the country?" Pete asks, pointing.

President Dreamboat blinks at him. "No. I just like them. Please, get in."

Pete does. Marcus does. The suit does. They all stare at each other for a minute.

The President clears his throat. "Miguel, you can ride in the front. Please."

The suit gets out of the car. They stare at each other some more.

"I'd like to show you the city," the President says. "If that's all right."

"That's awesome." Pete grins at him. "I'd love to see your city."

The President laughs. "This city is my city, and I love it, yeah I love it, right? The song. Patrick's song."

Pete feels his eyebrows race up toward his hair. "That song made it to Uruguay?"

The President makes a face. "I've followed your careers. I'm kind of a... a fanboy. Is that embarrassing? I'm not embarrassed, but you look like you're embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed," Pete says honestly. "I'm confused."

The President puts his hand over his heart. "Sometimes something just fits in your chest, right? And you know."

Pete knows.

**

With Marcus chaperoning, nothing _happens_ on their drive around Montevideo. Pete behaves. The President behaves. He puts his hand on Pete's knee _once_ and it's amazing, but they're both really very, very good.

When he gets back to LA, Pete orders custom pairs of boots in three sizes and sends them to the President's mansion, including a note to keep the ones that fit and do whatever he wants with the others.

The President sends back a dress in deep purple fabric with a note that says it was hand-made and designed by one of Uruguay's best up-and-coming designers.

Pete sends him an email that he will make Uruguayan fashion happen, if only on the Internet, and then sends him a "Suck My Richard" t-shirt of his very own.

The President emails back a picture of him wearing the shirt and grinning, and signs the email "Gabe."

Pete sends back a picture of Bronx, just as... not a test, exactly. A reminder, in case President Gabe forgot, that Pete has other things in his life besides his band and Internet flirting.

There's no email, but a week later a giant box arrives at the house, full of toys and clothes sized for a five-year-old.

Pete smiles and books himself and Bronx plane tickets for a two-week trip to Uruguay. This is something that fits in his chest, right above his heart.


End file.
